


Tired of This

by syooungie



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Angst, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Loss of Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syooungie/pseuds/syooungie
Summary: Ana never thought she'd get betrayed. But then she did.





	Tired of This

**Author's Note:**

> based on a personal experience :(

I bit at my hand, trying not to let any sound escape the clutches of my mouth. My shoulders shook, tears flowing down my cheeks, my heart clenching in pain. 

I trusted her.

So much. I trusted her so bad and yet she goes and does this. I trusted her with all of my heart, with all of my body, and yet she still goes to betray me. 

She promised not to. She promised she wouldn’t.

And yet, when I woke up this morning, she called me to her room, asked me some questions.

“How would you rate us?” “Do you really love us?”

I had to lie. No matter how untruthful it was, no matter how much it hurt me to not say my real feelings. 

I pushed myself off my bed, as silently as I could, trying to not make it creak. I tiptoed to my wardrobe, sliding the door open. I crouched down to the floor, tugging at the shopping bag lying on the floor. I took it out, bringing it to me, and taking the pink journal out, stickers littering the cover. I opened the book, my fingers shaking. I let out a small sigh, before wiping at my tear-stained face, and hastily running a hand through my short, black hair. Poems and paragraphs. Words filled the pages, sentences that seemed all too familiar to me. Sentences that I never thought would haunt me, phrases that I thought would forever stay safe. I let a sob run out of me, clasping my hand quickly at my mouth. I turned my head toward my bed, where my clock lay gracefully on one of the shelves attached to the bed frame. 3:40 AM. I turned back to the journal in my hands, drops of water hitting against the paper, creating small, dark patches. My breath hitched in my throat, when I turned to a specific page, a few pages away from a rant written just a few hours ago. 

Recently, my heart drifted towards the thoughts of freedom. Towards the thoughts of finally being true to myself. Recently, the urge to come out has become stronger.  
I want to scream it out loud. I want the whole world to know, I want them to know the true me. I want them to see me as I am, to see me for who I really am deep inside. I want to let them know, I want to let them know that I’m proud, that I’m me.  
But, no matter how much I yearn, I can never let it out. I can never let the world know.  
That is, while I’m under this roof. Not when I’m living here. Not when I’m with this family, still connected to them.  
I want to be me.  
I want them to know, that I’m still the same Ana.  
That even though I’m Queerplatonic Greyromantic Asexual, I am still the same Ana.  
That absolutely nothing had changed.  
That nothing ever will.  
Because they’d hate me for it.  
That they’d disown me for it.  
That they wont hesitate to scream, to yell, to bash me just because of something I cant control.  
But one day, one day, I’ll tell the world.  
That one day, my real self can be introduced to the world.  
That my true identity is valid, is seen, and will be heard.  
That nothing will stop me for being me.  
But until then, I’ll keep it to myself.  
For my safety, for the sake of my life. 

I glared at the words, silent chuckles drifting through the air. I rubbed at my cheeks, pushing the tears off.  
“How funny” I thought to myself, “Because now they know. Well, I mean, one knows.”

I screamed silently, my hand scrunching the pages of the white journal. I tugged at my hair, tears dropping furiously anywhere and everywhere, the pink journal falling onto my lap. I calmed myself, my chest heaving up and down in a quick rhythm, my chest feeling like its clogged, that my breath had trapped itself in. I stood up, before sitting myself down on the chair sitting right in front of my desk. I opened the journal again, tugging at the white pages of the journal, tearing the pages of words, no, the pages of feelings, emotions, the truth. I ripped it all away, throwing it onto the floor, before throwing myself onto the floor, in front of the scattered papers. Placing the journal down on the floor, I grabbed the scattered papers up instead. I lined them up, making sure that all of the paper was bunched up together, the heights and widths matched up. And brought my hand to the top of the papers, and pulling it down, ripping the papers, shredding them until nothing was left of my precious feelings, my precious emotions, my anxiety, my nerves, everything that had troubled me. I bunched the shredded papers together, scrunching it up into a ball, before throwing it into the bin that sat on the floor, under my desk.  
Standing up, I brought the journal with me, placing it back onto the paper shopping bag I had taken it out from. I placed it back into the wardrobe, before grabbing the wipes and tissues that sat in one of the shelves. Quickly taking out a piece of wipes, I rubbed it at my face, before chucking it in the bin, and instead taking one of the tissues out of the small packet it came it. I then dried my face, and threw the tissue again at the bin, before carefully lowering myself back onto my bed, covering myself with my blanket, the stars printed onto it dull, exactly mirroring how I felt inside. I mean, I felt dull all the time, but today, in this moonlight, it just hurt painfully. I turned over, turning the lamp off. Before I fell asleep, I muttered two words into the air. 

“I’m scared”

I turned over, facing the wall, bringing my plush cat closer to my chest, holding tightly onto it as if had I not had it, the world would start crumbling. The last words that drifted through my head before I fell asleep was,

“I’m tired of this”


End file.
